Since it’s Mother’s Day weekend, I am posting a slightly revised version of a story I wrote in 1988 when my daughter Laura was five. (Sorry about letting the world know your age, Laura.) At that time, the process of widening a highway was taking down many old trees. A group banded together to save one specific old oak tree, referred to as the Loretta Oak.
If the group had a name, I don’t recall it. Neither do I remember any of the individual people who saved the Loretta Oak from being destroyed. We lived just a few miles outside the town limit, so we passed the tree each day we went into town. My husband and I followed the story of the tree with great interest. I wasn’t sure how much Laura was absorbing until the decision to save the tree was final. At the time, we had out-of-town family visiting with us. We passed the tree and Laura piped up, “Sandy, look! Here comes the old oak! See the yellow ribbon? That’s so the workers know they can’t cut it down.”
For whatever reason, Laura became passionate about that tree. Which side of the backseat she sat on depended on whether we were going into town or coming home; she had to be on the side where she could best see the tree. She waved to it and blew it kisses as we passed by.
Loretta Oak provided some lessons to my kindergartner. For instance, after we settled on the fact that the tree was about two hundred years old, Laura discovered there were trees taller than Loretta. Did this mean they were older? That produced a discussion that although her grandmother was older than her daddy, he was taller than she was. So no, taller doesn’t mean older for trees or for people.
The tree also helped Laura with distinguishing left from right, although the conversations were sometimes frustrating for both of us.
Laura: Which side is the old oak on, Mommy? Left or right?
Me: It depends on whether we’re going to the store or coming home.
Laura: But is it left or right?
Me: It depends on…
Laura: Just tell me what side God put it on in the first place!
(Try to argue with the logic of a five-year old.)
The most valuable lesson connected with the tree, though, is that it’s important to stand up for what you believe in. Don’t sit back thinking that “somebody else” will take care of a problem. Have the courage to fight for your convictions. I wish I had been part of that nameless group that saved Loretta. As it is, I can say only, “Thanks.”
To my readers: Please share a favorite story about being a mom or about your mom.
